


Live For Me

by allisonsargent



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Cutesy, Fluffy, M/M, SO IT WORKS, but they love each other - Freeform, iker confessing his feelings to sergio, sergio is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonsargent/pseuds/allisonsargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergio constantly kept Iker guessing, and as much as Iker wanted to understand his closest friend, he couldn’t. But after all, Sergio was the most confused out of the two, since Sergio never understood himself half the time. </p><p>He was the absolute definition of a complication, sometimes a little too playful, and overly dramatic at times. He was likable, so so likable, yet over the span of a few years, so many had exited Sergio’s life. Some had made a point of doing it quietly, slowly ignoring Sergio’s constant texts and phone calls, and if they were picked up, the person on the other end was distant, mostly making awkward small talk. But, some didn't make it a secret that they didn’t want to be friends with Sergio, outright him to stop calling and texting — Fernando, one of the most important people in Sergio’s life, had done that, and it had hurt much more than Sergio had anticipated.</p><p>But Iker stayed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live For Me

**Author's Note:**

> HELLLLOOOO FOOTBALL FANDOM, SOPHIA HAS ARRIVED. So, hi **waves** I'm Sophia, and hopefully some of my followers from my blog ((which is nikeneymar, by the way)) have made it this far and are reading this!! I've written the occasional mini-fic/one-shot request on my blog, and Seriker is my absolute favorite football related ship probably ever. This was SUPPOSED to lead up to super cute smut, but instead I ended it a little differently, and I decided that I'll write smut next <3 So, I hope you like this, kudos and comments are ALWAYS appreciated, and if you need any requests fulfilled, you can message me on my tumblr ((http://lionelsmessi.co.vu/ask)) and I'll try my best to write it <3 I LOOOVE YOU AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

Sergio Ramos had always been a little bit undecided, a wild card in comparison to others he knew. A little bit inquisitive, Sergio always contained an unquenchable thirst for knowledge of things both good and bad. As he grew older, he had managed to keep his sense of playful exuberance, making him seem younger than he actually was.

Sergio was full of life, one second he was acting playful, the next minute he was scornful, ignoring anyone who he crossed paths with. Many people liked Sergio, either way, but staying friends with him without annoying him was something only Iker was capable of doing.

With an attitude that was as light and bubbly as Sergio’s, not liking him was as hard as a feat as actually gaining his trust.

That being said, becoming friends with Sergio Ramos was not an easy feat by any means, and not just anyone could accomplish it. Sometimes, not even Iker Casillas, goalkeeper and captain of both the Spain national team and elite football club Real Madrid could even understand how he had managed to unravel the truly confusing riddle that is Sergio Ramos.

Iker, in comparison to Sergio, had been the more tight lipped out of the two, always had been the one to observe other’s actions rather than point them out.

He followed the same procedure on the pitch, but used it for a different purpose. He always watched the players scatter around the field, Iker took account for every step over, push, and dribble that occurred on his side of the pitch, since how could he do his job as goal keeper correctly if he didn’t? Both fortunately and unfortunately, he was an over-analyzer, it was a terrible habit, but on the pitch it came in handy, as well as off the pitch.

Like he did on the pitch, when the club went out for dinner after victories, and sat by a large table — as per usual — Iker would always casually lean back against the chair he was occupying, and do what he did best; observe.

His dark mocha colored eyes would slowly skim across every face of every person sitting around the large table, watching with fascination as their lips moved at the speed of light, forming words and sentences that were capable of being anywhere from silly to serious to a bit of humor.

He would pick out the emotions from other’s eyes, trying to unravel the meaning in his mind, an unfortunate habit. He did this to many of his teammates, and if he could say so himself, he was pretty good at knowing how others felt and what they wanted, but the one mystery he could never truly figure out was Sergio Ramos.

Sergio constantly kept Iker guessing, and as much as Iker wanted to understand his closest friend, he couldn’t. But after all, Sergio was the most confused out of the two, since Sergio never understood himself half the time.

He was the absolute definition of a complication, sometimes a little too playful, and overly dramatic at times. He was likable, so so likable, yet over the span of a few years, so many had exited Sergio’s life. Some had made a point of doing it quietly, slowly ignoring Sergio’s constant texts and phone calls, and if they were picked up, the person on the other end was distant, mostly making awkward small talk. But, some didn't make it a secret that they didn’t want to be friends with Sergio, outright him to stop calling and texting — Fernando, one of the most important people in Sergio’s life, had done that, and it had hurt much more than Sergio had anticipated.

But Iker stayed.

Iker was there every single time that Fernando had picked Sergio’s hopes up high, then dropped him as if the Spaniard didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Iker had been there to comfort him, to sooth Sergio, to calmly whisper reassurances in soft, slow Spanish into his ears.

Sergio remembered one encounter as clear as the blue Spanish sky, and even though it had only occurred a few months ago, Sergio felt like it had happened only yesterday.

He had been feeling particularly lonely that muggy evening in mid-June, and Sergio had decided to call up an old friend, to touch bases and see how he was. He was going out on a whim, and Sergio himself knew it. It was likely that Fernando wouldn’t pick up his call, and would allow yet another message from Sergio go to his full voicemail.

What Sergio didn’t expect was for the phone call to actually go through, and to hear the sweet and oh so familiar voice of the Spaniard he had been enamored with for several years. “Sergio?”

"Fernando.." Sergio practically gasped in awe, and he gripped his iPhone tighter than he had ever done before, "You picked up."

"Yeah…" Fernando trailed off, before sighing heavily into the speaker, and saying, "I’m sorry, Sergio." He actually sounded genuinely sorry, yet it made Sergio feel even worse.

Sergio’s lips curled into a frown, and he realized that this was the part of the call where Fernando would tell him that he was ‘sorry for dragging our relationship so far’ and when Sergio would try to protest, Fernando would cut him off with a quick and stuttered ‘I’m s-sorry, Sergio, I h-have to g-go’ and then he’d hang up, leaving Sergio to wonder what exactly he’d done wrong.

"Sorry… For what?" Sergio gulped, prepared for the immense feeling of rejection he was about to experience.

He never understood why he constantly put himself through this pain, calling Fernando in hopes that maybe he’d change his mind, and that he’d come back into Sergio’s welcoming arms. But in the cold reality that Sergio had never wanted to face or even acknowledge, Fernando had cut Sergio deep throughout their twisted relationship, or whatever it would’ve been considered. Fernando’d made promises that he never intended to keep, making Sergio’s heart swell, thinking that he had finally found someone who was willing to put up with him and his crazy antics.

Fernando would cut Sergio unnecessarily deep, then rub salt into his wounds, but Sergio had endured. Sergio had been distraught after the breakup, had shed too many tears for a man who was never destined to be his.

Sergio hadn’t realized it at the time, but he realized it now, he wasn’t right for Fernando; yet, some isolated part of his heart still held some hope for their reconciliation.

"For never answering your calls," Fernando answered, as if the answer should’ve been the most obvious thing in the world, and in all honesty, Sergio hadn’t been expecting that. "I should’ve picked them up, I should’ve texted you back. God, Sergio — I’m sorry, I really am."

Was this real? Was he.. apologizing? “It’s okay, Nando, really,” He sniffled, his voice most likely sounding muffled over the speaker, “But, let’s not talk about that.. How have you been doing?”

Fernando had proceeded to talk about how he had met a girl, a lovely lovely girl who’s name was Olalla, a name Sergio had found particularly odd, but he didn’t tell Fernando that. Fernando then continued on, telling Sergio that the couple was expecting their first baby, and as much as it hurt, Sergio was happy for them. Truly, genuinely happy.

He told Sergio that Fernando and Olalla would be down in Madrid for a couple of days in a few weeks, and that they should all get together for a friendly lunch. Friendly wasn’t exactly what Sergio had wanted to hear, but it was better than being ignored. Sergio had wiped the tears off his face, telling Fernando that he’d like that, and to call him when they were in Madrid.

"I will. I promise." was the last thing Fernando had said, before he hung up.

Sergio was torn between being happy for Fernando, but also feeling overcome with an acute nostalgia for the days he had spent with Fernando. He sniffled, grabbing his cell phone once again, but dialing a different number, a number of someone who had always been available to Sergio. He had waited until the dial tone had ended, before speaking into the speaker, his voice cracked and low, “I-Iker? What are you doing?”

Sergio could hear commotion on the other end of the line, and heard laughter, and Sergio’s heart sunk deep deep into his chest as realization hit him. Of course, Iker had company on a Saturday night. Everyone wanted to hang out with Iker Casillas, he was a saint, a hero; he was loved by many.

Sergio heard Iker’s voice, even if it was slightly muffled, “Cesc, hold on, I have a phone call, I — yes, I’ll be right back. Do I still want pizza?” Iker paused, “Yeah, I do. Can you invite Xavi over? And maybe Xabi?” Another pause, then a sigh, “Yes you can invite Gerard — what? Do I care if he brings Leo? Tell him sure, we can’t eat all this pizza anyway. Maybe I’ll invite Sese.”

Ah, Cesc was over. That hurt Sergio, a little, knowing how Iker always had had a crush on Fabregas, and Cesc liked him back, obviously. Sergio had always seen the chemistry between them, even if the other team members didn’t. Maybe that was just because Sergio knew Iker like the back of his hand. That’s what best friends did.

"Yeah, nene, what’s up? Sorry, Cesc came over for FIFA and pizza because you know, he came down from England to see the Clasico next week, and —" Iker sounded so excited at the fact that Cesc had came down, and suddenly Sergio felt bad to even ask Iker to come over. But he had to; Iker was the only one who truly understood Sergio, even if Iker didn’t realize it.

"Sorry, Iker.. I was going to ask if you could come over," Sniffle, "But if you’re busy.."

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Iker pressed the phone to his shirt once again, his voice muffled, “Cescky, can you please get that?” A pause, and then Iker’s voice wasn’t muffled, “Sorry, Sese. You were saying?”

"Can you come over?" Sergio’s tone was desperate, pleading almost, and Sergio felt exposed, seeing that he always built up a wall around his feelings, never letting anyone in. He’d been like that before Fernando, and he was still like that now.

"Right now?" Iker clarified, and Sergio muffled a practically inaudible ‘yes’ in reply. Sergio heard Xabi’s Spanish with a hint of English dialect in the background, and his heart warmed at the thought of his teammate. Classy Xabi. "Guys, I have to go, I’ll be right back."

Sergio heard Iker’s car keys jingle, and the Spaniard smiled to himself in happiness, “I’ll be right there, Sese.” And the call ended, without a word further.

"Iker, Iker, Iker," sighed Sergio dreamily, sinking down further into his plush bed, "You never let me down."

* * *

 

Iker had arrived around thirty minutes after the dropped call, and while waiting for his friend, Sergio had wrapped himself into his blanket like a burrito, and sobbed over his lost love, his poor formation on the pitch, and how he had managed to so royally fuck himself over the way he did. Iker had let himself in with Sergio’s spare apartment key, as per usual, and stumbled into Iker’s perfectly neat bedroom with mocha eyes wide, holding up two paper cups with straws inserted at the top and holding a bag with ‘Dulce’s’ etched on the side.

"Sese?" Iker walked closer to the bed, and Sergio felt the bed dip down toward the edge as his friend and co-captain sat down. "You okay?"

Sergio rubbed at his eyes violently, sighing at the question his best friend had just asked. He leant against the headboard, “You know what? That’s funny, Casillas, that’s a very funny question. I will never understand the human mind; why do we ask someone ‘are you okay’ if you already suspect that the person is okay? I didn’t magically call you over so we could discuss unicorns and ridiculous shit like that, obviously I called you over because I’m not okay. Why are you asking me if I’m okay? Do I look okay? No — don’t even answer that, because I look like shit, and I feel like it too. Everything bad happens to me, Iker, I could never have nice things. My love life is nonexistent, I haven’t been laid in weeks, my form on the pitch has been horrendous, and I’ve eaten way too many of those fucking brigadeiro’s Marcelo keeps supplying me with. I’m messed up, Iker. Why am I here? What do I have to live for? Can I just scrap this life, and try over? Where’s my do-over, Iker? Where is it?”

Iker set the two paper cups and bag onto Sergio’s nightstand, and scooted closer to his best friend. “Sese, I don’t know. And you’re not messed up.. You’re amazing.”

Sergio snorted rudely, rolling his caramel eyes in annoyance, “Easy for you to say. You’re Iker fucking Casillas! San Iker! When we go onto the pitch, they scream your name, not mine,” They also screamed Cristiano’s, but that was beside the point. “You’re perfect, Iker! You got A’s all the time, you were the teacher’s pet, everyone adored you, you can slay as a goalie, and you have girls and boys alike falling for your looks! And you’re saying I’m amazing? Give me a break, Iker, really.”

Iker stayed quiet, and the only sounds in the room were Sergio and Iker’s slow breathing, both on pace with the other. Sergio, as usual, broke the silence, “Why haven’t you left?” Sergio asked stubbornly, his eyes producing tears that he hadn’t wanted to pour out, his face bright red in embarrassment, but eyes wide with curiosity. “Everyone does, Iker. Pilar, Mesut, Fernando. Everyone that meant something to me left.. Why haven’t you? Do you feel pity for me? Is that why you’re still here?”

Iker only chuckled nervously, running the pads of his fingertips across Sergio’s lips softly, taking in how full and textured his lips were, ignoring the fact that they were slightly chapped. The goalkeeper leaned in and pressed a soft chaste kiss to the corner of Sergio’s lips, a kiss that was dangerously close to his mouth.

A kiss like that would normally having Sergio begging for more, but under these circumstances, Sergio didn’t want a kiss, or sex even, he wanted a crystal clear answer from Iker, even if it was is brutally honest, even if it would hurt Sergio. He wanted to know why Iker hadn’t left. He cared for Iker, he really did. Maybe as more than a friend, and honestly, Sergio wanted nothing more than to be with Iker, and to hold him. That was so wrong; they were best friends after all, but Sergio couldn’t help it. Just like he couldn’t help falling apart, piece by piece..

It felt like ages before he answered, because when he did, Sergio felt like the whole world had been magically lifted from his shoulders; “Because, I love you. I always have, and I always will, nene..” And with that, Iker took a deep breath and connected their lips together, and both of then realized how much courage it took Iker to do that. Like Sergio, Iker didn’t share his feelings regularly, but when he did, you had to be pretty damn special. And thanks to Iker, that’s what Sergio felt like right now; special.

Iker hadn’t realized it before, but Sergio’s lips fit perfectly against his own, almost like a puzzle piece. Sergio tasted of bubblegum and bitter coffee, and his lips were slightly chapped in contrast to Iker’s soft lips, and oddly enough Iker already was used to it. Sergio raked his fingers through Iker’s soft hair, a low hum slipping pass his lips, and he shut his eyes, melting into Iker’s kiss.

"Sergio," Iker broke the kiss unexpectedly, and Sergio softly whined, "Don’t ever tell me you’re messed up. You’re amazing, and have everything to live for. You’ve achieved so much.. And, if you can’t ever think of something to live for," Iker reached over, and handed Sese the paper bag he’d brought with him, and handed him a chocolate chip cookie, holding it out to him with affection practically gushing in his eyes. "Live for me."


End file.
